Night Vision
by Malty
Summary: Plot! Direction! This fic has none of those pesky things slowing it down, but it does have a shameless John/Chas focus. One night with the pair, sort of humorous angst I guess, I know . I reiterate; John/Chas, don't read it if it's not your thing.


**A/N:** Thanks for looking, we're off to a good start already! This has been sitting in a folder for some time waiting for inspiration to take it somewhere, and seeing as it shows no signs of turning up I thought I'd present it as is for your pleasure. I'll be honest and tell you I don't think much of it. The rating is primarily for Chas' mouth.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not affiliated with the Constantine universe in any way and I make no profit from this.

**Summary:** This is definitely Chastine. Woo, my first out and out, (no pun intended), Chastine! One night with Chas and John, Chas train-wreck-of-thought as he reflects on where he stands and why he might be happy standing there.

**Finally:** I repeat that this is John/Chas, as in John and Chas together, so turn back if that isn't for you. If it is then hey, I like the way you think.

* * *

It's dark.

It could be night I'm not sure, I'm led on the couch, (you already know whose), with my head buried in the cushions. I didn't mean to doze off but I'm just so fucking tired lately, I can't remember the last time I slept through the night. And you know whose to blame for that.

He's leaning over me, I don't know how long he's been standing there, probably checking to see if I'm awake. Good luck figuring that one out, I'm not really sure myself and I am me.

'Chas.'

Yeah, that's it, that's me. Well done.

Wait, was he talking to me? Did I imagine that? I must've imagined it, I usually jump when he talks but I'm still glued to the couch.

'Well then you'd better get yourself unglued before the couch hits the sidewalk.'

Wha.. Was I talking out loud before? Fuck! I'm so out of it.

I pull my head up and sort of climb into a sitting position. I'm wincing at the low light, I can't really focus on anything. He's stood over me and it makes me uncomfortable so I run a hand through my hair to wake myself up. My fingers get caught in the tangle. Man, I'm an attractive sight right now.

He smirks, clearly thinking the same. I sort of stare back and he tells me it's getting late. I've no idea what time it is but it doesn't matter; he just means I'm not staying here tonight. I nod, not because I have a say in this but 'cos he'll kick my ass out of here if I don't acknowledge that I'm leaving. Ordinarily I'd get straight up and go, eager for the rest, but tonight it's taking a little longer to collect myself.

It's not like I'd get much sleep anyway. At first I couldn't sleep because he was keeping me awake. I didn't even wanna sleep, I couldn't, not with him so close. All I wanted to do was stay awake so I could be with him. Hey, I was young, it's wasn't like losing sleep could hurt me.

Then he started sending me home, and the first time he did it I just assumed that was it, no more sleepless nights with him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it except that I was surprised it lasted as long as it did. I didn't sleep that night, I was so confused, maybe even more than I am now. It was okay though, I'd get over it soon enough and everything would go back to normal.

I was so, so fucking young.

Now I know better – well not _better, _just more, not that it makes any more sense. Now I know that some nights he wants me to stay, and the last thing he wants is to let me sleep. I know on the nights he sends me home my stomach still drops a little bit, and I'll sleep even less for thinking about him. I know that in the day when I'm working I can hardly stay awake thanks to the argument going back and forth in my head: One side says he's fucking with me until I break and I'm just too naïve to see it, the other says he just doesn't realise what he's doing, and I shouldn't be so fucking sensitive. I'm thinking too much. I haven't picked a side yet, but the more sleep I get the more I agree I should just get over it.

I know I feel old.

I also know I really need to get out of his place before he _takes_ me out, so I start to peel myself from the couch before he realises I'm still here. I'm maybe halfway there before _oh shit it's too late, he reappears and he's __**carrying a weapon**_.

I don't even have the reflexes to duck before it hits me full-force around the head. It takes a few seconds for the pain to set in before I see what hit me; a heavy looking – pillow? The hell? He doesn't mean..

Fuck! Five minutes, _five minutes _ago I knew where things stood. 'Late' meant 'leave', I was sure of it. And now weapon equals pillow? Is that what happens if I outstay the timer? I'm rewarded with a couch? I bet it was all a test and I've been failing this whole time. Suddenly I'm back to feeling very young.

'You should get some sleep.'

Damn right I should! I should get a week's paid vacation to sleep and another to wake up!

Honestly it's times like this I just wanna quit, throw in whatever the hell it is we're doing and just walk away. I'm so sick of being on the outside like this, I just want someone to level with me and not screw me around. I want John to let me in on what's happening. I want John.

Looks like that particular wish could be answered. He's leaning closer again. I think I should pull away, I really do, but I'm backed into the cushions and I'm moving way too slow..

Too late, he's kissing me and every bit I pull back just pulls him further onto me. It would probably work better if I broke the contact but it feels far too good and I feel far too weak. I need this, need this kind of closeness. Without thinking I run a hand through his hair and he responds by easing me back down until I'm lying underneath him while he touches me, intertwining his fingers with mine. From the outside I bet that looks like a loving gesture; it's not. That's his claim on me, making sure every inch of me is submissive to him.

On my better days I'd probably think it was a loving gesture too.

Feeling that was way too cynical a thought to enter into this without hating myself in the morning I finally break it, looking up at him with what I hope is an unreadable expression. We're still for a moment, and I find myself half-hoping he'll kiss me again, because then I won't be responsible. He doesn't, and it's probably best for my state of mind that it stay that way, not that it does anything to calm the rest of me.

Sometimes I'm so sure that this is all a dream, and that I'm going to wake up head against the wheel any minute. Then I think the fact_ I think _it could be a dream shows that I must want this, and that explains why I put up with it. I'm getting what I want.

John kisses me again, but the intent is gone leaving behind something comfortable. Safe. I've no doubt he did it because he wanted to rather than to comfort me, but the end result's the same.

He heads off to his bedroom, and it's not just that I know I'm not supposed to follow him, but I find I don't need to; I'm okay on the couch. In some fucked up way this suits us. We're never gonna live or die by each other, we're not those people. I pulled back tonight, maybe if I stick to what I want as much as he does we can even be equal in this.

I'm still tired, even more tired than before actually, but I think I can sleep now, realising I don't have to be next to him to be close to him.

I salvage the pillow from the floor and it looks like I'm set to crash out almost instantly. I almost laugh. Turns out I can sleep knowing he's in the next room, but I'll sleep easier knowing there's a door between us.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I have no idea what just happened either. Well done for getting through it at any rate, and thank you for reading.


End file.
